


Having a Ball

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, M/M, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to the blindfold_spn prompt: "Sam/Dean, Dean wearing a ball gag or a ring gag." PWP, established relationship. Yes, I went with a dorky title. It couldn't be helped, believe me.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Having a Ball

Sam's not really into hard kink. He never has been before, and he sure as hell isn't going to start now.

Who needs it, when he's fucking his brother and his brother is _Dean_ goddamn _Winchester_? Dean is too beautiful for words— _unnatural_ , Sam sometimes thinks. He doesn't need any bells and whistles to get off when it's Dean he's buried in, Dean hot and tight around his dick—Dean's mouth or ass or hands—always giving. What more could Sam possibly need?

But Dean is loud in bed, fucking _noisy_ , like his brain completely disconnects from his mouth when he's hot and riled. And sometimes that's a turn on. Okay, it's _always_ a turn on, knowing he can take Dean apart so easily. Knowing Dean is so caught up in the moment, in _Sam_ , that he can't rein in the groans and shouts and howls that come out too loud for discretion.

But sometimes it's inconvenient, little towns and family-owned motels, and sometimes people _know_ they're brothers; and even though Dean looks hot as hell when Sam covers his mouth with a hand to shut him up, sometimes Sam wants both hands for _other_ things.

So Sam invests in some insurance, and the next conservative little town they crash in, he takes it out of his duffle and almost laughs at Dean's disbelieving expression.

" _What_ ," says Dean, "Is _that_?"

"A ball gag, Dean," Sam informs him, smirk solidly in place as he holds it up by one strap, red ball of the gag swaying slightly.

"Gonna look ridiculous on you, Sammy," says Dean, but Sam can read the nerves in the statement.

"It's not for me," he says.

"Right. Except for how I _know_ you're not deluded enough to think _I'm_ wearing that thing."

And they could argue about this like brothers, but this isn't about Dean being his brother. This is about the messy something else between them, and Sam steps forward into Dean's personal space like he owns it. He lets his eyes burn with want and intent, watches Dean fight the instinctive urge to shy away.

"Yes, Dean," says Sam. "You are. You're going to drop to your knees and suck my cock, and then you're going to wear this while I fuck you."

Dean almost looks like he's going to protest, like he still thinks it's just a _little_ too ridiculous, but Sam sets a commanding hand on his brother's shoulder and pushes downward. It's all instinct then, he can see it in Dean's eyes. Dean hits his knees, eyes wide and hungry, and he makes quick work of Sam's fly, swallowing him down with a practiced ease that has Sam groaning and throwing his head back. He almost drops the gag and forgets about it, almost comes right there, all over Dean's face, but he gets control of himself in time.

They could do this on the bed, but Sam prefers the floor. It's rough on _his_ knees, too, but he likes to see the rug burn that scuffs his brother's skin for a week after. He shoves Dean onto his hands and knees, and before his brother can protest, Sam slips the red ball of the gag into place and buckles the strap tightly behind his brother's head.

Dean moves as if to reach for it—maybe to take it off—but Sam doesn't give him the chance. He grabs both of Dean's wrists, yanking his brother off balance and sending him pitching forward onto his shoulders. Dean doesn't turn his head to the side in time, and his chin scrapes across the floor. All Sam hears is a garbled grunt, Dean's cursed response muffled behind the gag.

"That's it, baby," Sam croons, taunt to his voice because he knows Dean hates being called that. He pins Dean's wrists to the small of his back with just one hand, so damn easy to bracket them with his fingers, and uses his other hand to yank Dean's pants down his hips. "Just like that. You go ahead and make as much noise as you want, not gonna make any difference for once."

Dean doesn't need much prep, still loose and a little wet from Sam fucking him about 600 miles back, and Sam slides pretty much instantly home, easy slip all the way in. He thrusts in deep, then draws back out and thrusts deeper, watching Dean jerk his shoulders, still pinned and pressed into the carpet, his knees up beneath him to make a perfect offering of the ass Sam is pumping so eagerly into. Sam's ears burn with the deliciously muted sounds his brother is making, the racket he can tell Dean is trying to conjure up, but the red ball of the gag muffles him down to just the groans and grunts that escape when he breathes through his nose.

Dean manages to turn his head far enough to look at Sam over his shoulder as Sam fucks him open, and now Sam can _see_ it. The wide, fucked-out look in Dean's eyes and the obscene spread of his lips around the gag, and it's too much. Sam comes hard and fast, feeling Dean's inner muscles tighten around him and already thinking about another round. Dean's wrists are still pinned, the gag still shutting him up, and Sam thinks that if he can get it up again, he might just _have_ to make a mess of his brother's face.

Dean looks so goddamn pretty with that gag in his mouth, it seems like the only practical thing to do.


End file.
